


Twice as Many Stars

by Anonymous



Category: DreamSMP
Genre: Family Dynamics, Gen, Innacurate science, Mars colony, Space AU, probably, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Always running, Wilbur is;  Phil wonders, not for the first time,  if he’s the thing Wilbur’s running from.Tommy frowns at their retreating backs. “They’re not much fun, are they?”Phil sighs. “It’s complicated, Tommy.”“Yeah,” Tommy says, with that look in his eyes he gets when he’s not going to let something go. “Well, big man, what do we do now?”Phil rubs a hand over his eyes and prepares for the longest year of his life.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68
Collections: Anonymous





	Twice as Many Stars

“Listen to me,” Wilbur snaps, turning so fast he almost slips on the gangplank. “Fundy, you have to get on the rocket.”

Fundy shakes his hair into his eyes and digs his heels down. “No!”

“Shh,” Wilbur hisses, shifting his meager backpack to his other arm in order to better haul the boy forward. “You’re making a scene.”

“I don’t want to go,” Fundy wails. “You can’t make me go, dad!”

“I can,” Wilbur says determinedly. “They’re expecting us at the colony, and Grandpa’s waiting for us. It’s too late to bargain, Fundy, we went over this.”

“This isn’t, this isn’t -”

“I know you’re afraid,” Wilbur says, the doorway into the rocket tantalizingly close. Using all six-foot-five of his power, he gives another tug on Fundy’s arm and manages to pull him another few feet. “I know this is scary, but we have to go.”

“I’m not afraid,” Fundy says, stumbling miserably on the chrome ramp. He looks down towards the earth below like he’s already light years away. “I just don’t want to go.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Wilbur sighs. “Just a few more steps, please. Just get inside.”

Fundy looks like he wants to argue, but he must recognize the stressed edge to Wilbur’s voice. To the immense relief of both the ground crew and his father, the child finally picks up his feet and walks on his own accord. 

“Thank you,” Wilbur says, almost an afterthought. 

_Positive reinforcement is good for development_ , his wife used to tell him, back when Fundy was only six and hadn’t yet figured out that life wasn’t fair. Wilbur recalls with a wry pang of regret that Fundy had taken to her more, always asking for Mom instead of Wilbur; now that Fundy only has him, things are more and more difficult by the day.

 _Well, Sally_ , Wilbur thinks a little bitterly. _I said thank you to him for walking. Look what a great job I’m doing without you._

Finally in front of the doorway, Wilbur reaches into his bag to dig for their identification papers as a man with shockingly pale skin materializes out of the hallway beyond. 

“Hello,” he says, dragging the ‘o’ out in a monotone. He stands perfectly straight, simple crew’s uniform pressed to perfection, the word “tech” stitched in black, blocky letters over his heart. His long hair is braided down his back. 

“Hey,” Wilbur says. He holds out their papers in one hand and grabs onto Fundy’s wrist with the other, just in case the boy’s cooperation was a ruse. “We’re the Watsons? Phil should be waiting for us.”

The man takes the papers, looking down at them once and then back up. “Of course. These are all in order.”

“Are you sure? Did you even read them?” Fundy asks, like he had hoped something would be wrong with them. 

“Yes.” The man bends slightly from his height that rivals Wilbur’s, eyes narrowing at Fundy. “Fundy Watson. Aged twelve. Male. Brown eyes. Red hair. Born in Brighton, England, to Wilbur and -”

Wilbur pulls Fundy a little closer to his side, frowning. “May I ask who you are?”

“My registration number is B-One-A-D-Three, but Phil calls me Techno,” the man recites, straightening again with perfectly fluid movements.

No. Not a man. Registration number, Wilbur thinks, and the pieces click into place. 

“You’re an android?” Fundy asks. 

“I’m an android,” Techno confirms. 

Wilbur’s eyes travel to the stitching on his uniform, realizing that it’s less of a job description and more of a name. “You’re Phil’s?”

“I’m loyal to Phil.” Techno corrects. “He doesn’t like to use possessive connotation.”

“He wouldn’t,” Wilbur grumbles. “Look, can we come in, now? The takeoff schedule is pretty tight.”

“I know the schedule,” Techno says. “You could stand outside for another hour and still make it on board in time.”

“I’d rather not,” Wilbur says through his teeth. Leave it to Phil to teach an android to have an attitude.

Techno smiles. It looks odd on his symmetrical, unblemished face. “Alright. This way.”

Fundy audibly exhales the second his feet cross the threshold, and gives an even louder sigh at the sound of Techno slamming the hatch shut behind them. Wilbur squeezes his hand in what he hopes is gentle reassurance. Fundy responds by wrenching his arm out of Wilbur’s grasp.

“Phil’s asked me to show you around,” Techno says. “The rocket we’re using is a Model -”

“Actually,” Wilbur interrupts. “I’d like to get Fundy settled first. Could you show us our seats?”

Techno blinks. “Phil wanted to see you at the end of the tour.”

“We’ll have a year and more to see each other, he can wait until we put our bags down.” Wilbur doesn’t know why he’s pretending to smile; Techno doesn’t have feelings to hurt by showing just how exasperated he is.

But when he meets Techno’s glassy blue eyes, he can’t help but shiver at the depth he sees in them. For a moment, Wilbur could swear the android was reading his mind, picking out the threads from his brain, laying him and the guilty twist of his heart bare.

It sends a rush down his spine. He has a feeling he won’t be searching out quality time with Techno anytime soon.

“Right,” Techno says, and quirks his lips up in a well-practiced smirk. “Well, then. This way, Mr. Watson.”

~

Wilbur looks older than Phil remembers.

His son and grandson only appear from their designated seats once the rocket is well under-way, gravity ring set spinning. Fundy emerges looking a little green, fingers clenched tight around Wilbur’s arm. Phil, still shaking off the post-launch stress himself, remembers with a shock his other two passengers - after he gets Wilbur settled, he resolves to check in and make sure they didn’t get hurt during the rough exit. 

“Papa!” Fundy chirps, eyes brightening a little. He raises a hand in a wave. 

Phil grins and waves back. He hasn’t seen Fundy in at least a year, and he’s shot up from the small kid Phil remembers. “Hey, mate! Look at you, big man!”

Somewhere in his head, he realizes he’s falling into the same cliche trap his own grandparents had, _look how much you’ve grown_ and all, but he ruffles Fundy’s hair nonetheless as the kid slams into him with a tight hug. “How was the ride up?”

“Bumpy,” Fundy says, muffled in his shirt. “Dad almost threw up.”

Phil looks up at Wilbur, who pulls a face immediately. “I did not. I didn’t.”

“I thought maybe the ship was breaking,” Fundy says.

Phil pries him away, staring at his face, trying to memorize it all even though he knows he has more time now than he ever thought he would. “Not to worry, everything went perfectly. It’s always scary, the first time.”

“Where were you?” Wilbur asks. He looks stuttery, like he’s restraining himself from pulling Fundy out of Phil’s arms. 

“In the cockpit,” Phil says. “Techno and I needed to be in there in case anything went wrong or required manual attention.”

“Right.” Wilbur looks back at the floor. 

However long it’s been since he’s seen Fundy, Phil feels like it’s been even longer since he last saw his son. Ever since he met Sally, and subsequently lost her, he’d practically dropped off the face of the Earth, only showing up once in a blue moon when he had no other place to leave Fundy. Always running, Wilbur is.

And now, after so much radio silence, he’s on route to Mars with Phil to live out the rest of Fundy’s childhood on a barren rock. Phil doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Wilbur only contacted him to get a ride off the planet, but for Fundy’s sake, he decides to put it aside as best he can. 

“I’ve got to go check on the boys,” Phil says. “Would you like to come with me, Fundy? They’re only a little older than you.” They’re sixteen. From the viewpoint of Fundy’s twelve, that’s almost a decade, but Phil decides not to comment on that.

“The boys?” Wilbur asks.

“My wards,” Phil says. “They’ve been with me for about a year, now. They’re part of the company’s special program, you know, where they give kids in need a better life and a career opportunity in the space program.”

Wilbur frowns. “Did they agree to this? Sounds kind of invasive, shipping them off to Mars without their family.”

“It’s kinda like what you’re doing, dad,” Fundy says, unabashedly bitter.

“Uh,” Phil hesitates. “Their parents agreed to transfer custody to the company. And the kids did agree to go on this mission, yes.”

“Must be nice,” Fundy says.

“That’s enough,” Wilbur mutters. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

Fundy grumbles something inaudible.

Phil clears his throat and motions down the corridor. “They’re this way. I hope they didn’t unstrap before I told them to.”

The walk down the hall is silent. There’s a tension that hangs over them, all three ignoring it - that’s alright for now, Phil thinks. They’ll have plenty of time to talk.

“Tommy? Tubbo?” Phil calls when they reach the door of the boys’ cabin. “Knock knock. You can come out, now, we’re safely on our way.”

The door slides open so fast Phil takes a step back.

“Ay!” Tommy crows, stretching his gangly limbs as soon as he’s through the door. “Most miserable hour of my life, I’ll tell you.”

His twin brother, Tubbo, is less enthusiastic to emerge, but looks grateful to be up and walking again. “Yeah.”

“Who’re they?” Tommy asks, pointing to Wilbur and Fundy.

“This my son, Wilbur, and my grandson, Fundy.”

“Good to meet you,” Tubbo offers nicely. 

Tommy steps close, offering a hand to Fundy, who hesitantly shakes it. “I’m Tommy. That’s Tubbo. Before you ask, I’m older.”

“No,” Tubbo protests. “Just because you’re taller -”

“Do not listen to him,” Tommy says, still shaking Fundy’s hand. “And Wilbur, right? A pleasure.”

Wilbur raises a hand half-heartedly. “Hello.” Phil can’t blame him. Tommy is a lot to handle, especially when you don’t know him well.

“We’re going to get along so well,” Tommy announces. Fundy looks about as pleased with this as his father. “Did you know we have a year to spend together?”

Wilbur butts in. “Alright, Tommy, nice to meet you. We’ve got to get settled, though. Where’s our stuff, Phil?”

“Just down there, in personal storage. It’s labelled, can’t miss it. Ask Techno if you -”

“I’ve got it,” Wilbur mutters, and pulls on Fundy’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Always running, Wilbur is; Phil wonders, not for the first time, if he’s the thing Wilbur’s running from.

Tommy frowns at their retreating backs. “They’re not much fun, are they?”

Phil sighs. “It’s complicated, Tommy.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, with that look in his eyes he gets when he’s not going to let something go. “Well, big man, what do we do now?”

Phil rubs a hand over his eyes and prepares for the longest year of his life.

~

When asked, Niki always says that life on Mars is, “not exactly hard.”

It’s not much different from her childhood on Earth, she says. Having been raised on an old-fashioned farm, she’s familiar with the way the ground works, responsive to the needs of the crops they grow on this foreign world, making her a prime candidate for a mission based on self-sufficiency. She knows how to get up early. She knows how to work hard. She likes to think that her perseverance and ability to problem-solve is part of what got her on this mission, what earned her the title of Captain.

In interviews, she always says she felt, and still feels, perfectly prepared for the challenges of living on Mars. This is mostly true. She aced her courses back on Earth, the physical tests, the practical simulations. The rocket ride and landing went just as expected. She is able to anticipate everything and anything, thanks to her training, and setting up the colony in itself was - _that’s right_ , she says to the reporter’s image over the screen - _not exactly hard_.

 _Exactly?_ they ask, thirteen minutes later when her response has finally travelled the millions of miles to Earth. _What’s the hard part?_

 _That_ , she smiles, _is where my crew comes in._

“We’re coming up on our one year anniversary of self-sufficiency,” Schlatt announces, slamming down a notepad, his signature messy scrawl defacing the surface. 

Startled, Niki gingerly picks it up, attempting to decipher the words in order to read his notes. The other five members of the crew sit around the table in various states of disarray, half of them pulled from work, half from deep sleep.

“One year,” Schlatt says. His accent drawls over the vowels. “The company wants us to do something special for it.”

“Something special,” Sapnap echoes with a stupid grin, boots kicked up on the meeting table. “We’ll keep it running, what more do they want?”

“It’s a tactic,” Schlatt says, just as snarky. “That family is set to arrive here in a week, and then right after that it’s the day. Now, I say we hook up one of the cameras, tell one of the kids to start frolicking in the gardens -”

“The family’ll be tired from their journey,” Quackity protests. “Shouldn’t we leave them out of it?”

“Who’s the marketing manager here?” Schlatt asks.

“We don’t need a marketing manager,” George mutters. “ Every day I question why you came along.”

“It’s not like I asked! Space makes me sick. I haven’t been happy a single day on this cursed planet.”

“And ‘cause of that, neither have the rest of us.” Dream snorts, alone, at his own joke.

“Alright,” Niki sighs, putting down the notepad. “It’s to be a one-year special update, just a general tour of the base and our progress. Schlatt, you have an idea?”

“I do. Thank you.” Schlatt puffs his chest back up. “The end goal of this colony is to be fully inhabited and self-sufficient. If we can showcase that we’re well on our way there, it’s only a matter of time, the public will be impressed.”

“That’s a given from the instructions,” Eret says, raising an eyebrow over the notepad now held in her hands. 

“And,” Schlatt says, “and, if we get that new family in there, the public will see that it’s a nice place to live. They’ll be more willing to flock here when it opens.”

“I thought you were against space travel,” Quackity frowns.

Schlatt sighs. “Quackity, I am of the opinion that no one should ever come here. But, I’m also of the opinion that I, as well as this colony, need funding from Earth to continue living. So, the more we promote this thing, the more money people will spend, and the sooner I can go back to Earth.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Niki says. “We still don’t know if the family will arrive safely.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Dream frowns. “I’m sure it’ll all go fine.”

“What if we haven’t made the necessary precautions?” Niki wonders aloud, knowing perfectly well she’s done all she can. Something still gnaws at her stomach the more she thinks about the impending arrival.

That word she likes to use in her statements, _exactly_ , carries a lot of weight. As much as she likes to showcase a sure, steady figurehead, in reality, being Captain of such a volatile mission is exhausting. Any minute, something could happen, and it’s her responsibility to solve. 

She remembers in a flash the first night of dust storms they’d experienced on base. They’d had a warning, they’d been expecting it, but she hadn’t been prepared enough, surely, she hadn’t done enough; as a result Quackity had spent nearly twenty-four hours outside the base, huddling under the rover the only hope of protection he had. She remembers the shell-shocked, numb look in his eyes when they’d managed to dig him out. She remembers the damage to their equipment, the fear that at any moment, their foundations would be breached and they’d lose atmosphere stability. 

Mostly, though, she remembers what the harsh reminder of how dangerous their job really was had done to the crew. Their jobs were done with double the precaution, their nights spent with their bunks pushed to the center of the room, listening to each other breathe, hearts hammering at the alien noise outside. Homesickness and paranoia was rampant for months afterwards. Only Eret had been unaffected, due to the fact that androids don’t feel fear, but even she had gone uncannily silent about their fragile mortality. 

There have been other incidents, of course, but they’ve been incredibly lucky with their response time and handling. Their resources are good, supply missions are successful, and their modified crops either they’ve been incredibly lucky, or they’re a week away from the biggest disaster of their time on this mission. Life in space, despite what she is adamant to believe, is fraught with complications. Even the smallest mistake can mean the loss of life. 

This family is bringing more people for her to watch over, more chances for things to go wrong. She knows it’s the natural course of action. She knows the point of the colony is safety and security, and she knows that she’s capable and they’re prepared enough for their arrival.

It doesn’t stop her from worrying - but she thinks that maybe, just maybe, her worrying is the reason she fares so well up here.

“We have,” Quackity says reassuringly. “We’ve got it all planned. It’ll be fine.”

“We’ve got it all planned,” Niki echoes.

“Excuse me,” Schlatt says, steering them back on topic. “Do I have permission to write up some media release forms, Captain?”

Niki takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Yes. I’ll make sure to warn them of your plans.”

“I can contact their android by tomorrow morning. Would you like me to do so?” Eret asks, raising her hand.

“Yes. Thank you, Eret.”

Eret smiles. “Of course, Niki.” Her eyes glaze over, and she seems to freeze in place.

“Freaky,” George says lightheartedly. “I’ll never get used to that.”

Niki stares at him - stares at all of them, clumped together in this little bubble on Mars. Dream, George, Schlatt, Quackity, Sapnap, Eret. They’ve been all she’s had for so, so long, and something warm builds in her stomach at the memories of the things they’ve been through on this mission. The ship ride up, traveling through the stars, the long nights of loneliness and uncertainty spent comforting each other. Building their environment from nothing, creating life on the surface of a dead planet. The excitement of their jobs, their new life, their role in this new era.

Things will be alright, Niki decides, and smiles. Things are never hard with her family beside her. 

~

“Hey.”

Techno turns around to face the unexpected voice.

Tubbo stands in the doorway, one hand rubbing his eyes. He’s still in his nightclothes. He must have just woken up. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Techno says. “The morning cycle is in another three hours.”

Tubbo shrugs. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Why?” Techno asks, turning back to checking the health of their garden boxes. 

Tubbo walks forward, socked feet making barely any noise on the metal floor. He stares up at the monitor bolted to the wall - a feeble attempt from researchers at safely installing windows in space - watching the simulated stars go by. “I keep thinking about stuff. Like, home stuff.”

“I see.”

“Tommy’s mad at them, you know?” Tubbo says, most likely referring to their original guardians. “He’s mad that they, quote, shipped him off so easy.”

Techno raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have a better standard of living on Mars. Does he realize that?”

“Yeah. He does. He just - I think he’s more sad than really angry, but he’ll never admit it.”

“So what about you? Do you feel the same?”

“No. No, I’m fine with it. I get it.” Tubbo frowns. “Why are you asking?”

“Phil says it’s good to ask how people feel,” Techno says. “But I shouldn’t get invasive.”

Tubbo smiles. “Yeah? Yeah. That’s nice.”

Techno hums once in response. The small garden room lapses into silence.

Techno wonders if the small living quarters may have had something to do with Tubbo’s insomnia. There isn’t much room left in the rocket once you pack in supplies and backup supplies for such a long mission. It’s two people per bunk, stacked close along the rotating gravity ring. From how much Fundy has been complaining, it gets cramped pretty fast.

Techno squints at the kid. All of Tubbo’s physical signs point to him being tired. Was he lying? Techno opens his mouth to ask, but then thinks that Phil would probably call that overstepping, and so instead he says, “You know, it used to take people three years to get to Mars.”

“Oh,” Tubbo says. “That sounds miserable.”

“Many said it was. However, our technology rapidly developed, allowing for more frequent supply missions to Mars, and the establishment of a colony. Are you excited to arrive?”

“I think. It’s a little scary, knowing I’m so far away from home - from Earth.”

“You’ll be approximately sixty-three million miles away, actually.”

“Thanks.” Tubbo’s face scrunches up. Maybe he’s feeling more like his brother is than he cares to realize, judging from the frown pulling at his lips. 

Distraction seems to be helping take his mind off the topic, however. Techno walks up behind the boy and points out at the stars. “Did you know you’re seeing the same view you would see from Earth?”

Tubbo hums. “Really?”

“The cosmological principle states that all matter is distributed evenly through the universe. That means -”

“Cool,” Tubbo says - apparently, no further elaboration is needed. “You must know a lot about space.”

“Don’t you?”

“Not - not the fun stuff. They mostly focused on what we needed to know, you know? What to do if such and such breaks. What the conditions in space were like, what Mars is like. Not much of the fun stuff.”

Fun stuff. Techno searches for another so called fun fact. “There are over a hundred billion stars in a galaxy.”

Tubbo whistles. The stars are reflected in his eyes as he sits down. “Sure is a lot.”

“It is.”

“I’ll miss the constellations,” Tubbo says offhandedly. “They were fun to try and find.”

“There are eighty-eight of them,” Techno provides.

“Yeah. I liked to annoy Tommy, I would drag him outside in the middle of the night to show him the Bees.”

Techno cocks his head to the side. “There is no constellation called the Bees.”

Tubbo looks at him. “No, there is! Look, it’s right there!” He points to the monitor.

Techno would call himself bewildered, right now. “There are no constellations visible from this point in space -”

Tubbo starts to laugh. “It’s - it’s a joke, Techno. The Bees - it’s just all the stars, all at once. Looks like a swarm of insects.”

Techno stares. “I don’t see it.”

Tubbo laughs again. “Neither did Tommy. But it was fun to make him wake up.”

“I see.”

Tubbo sighs, sitting down on the cold floor. After a beat, Techno joins him. The kid yawns. “Is it alright if I sleep out here?”

“Yes,” Techno says. “Would you like me to get you a blanket?”

“No.” Tubbo leans over so his head is resting on Techno’s shoulder. “This is fine.”

“Oh.” Techno debates moving him. The plants still need to be checked, and the fuel should be moved to the tank room, but - but he can do those once the morning cycle starts. “This is fine, yes.”

“Thanks for talking to me,” Tubbo mumbles, eyes sliding closed. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Silence falls again. Tubbo begins to breathe more slowly. Techno brings an arm up around the boy’s shoulders so he won’t fall and stares out at the stars.

“The Bees,” Techno says quietly, Tubbo’s weight against him something like...what Phil would call comfortable, and thinks he could get used to this.

~

The rocket, to Niki’s great relief, lands without a single disaster.

Once the family has made it into the repressurized dome and the door is safely sealed, one of the children falls to his knees on the rough Martian ground, takes off his helmet, and presses his face into the dust. The others laugh, congratulating themselves on a mission well-accomplished. Niki smiles at them as she pulls open the main door. 

“Welcome,” she says. “How was your journey?”

“Long,” says the younger of the two adults.

“Boring,” says the ground-child, still running his hands over the ground. 

“This is Mars?” asks the red-haired boy. “I thought it would be - be -”

“Prettier?” Dream asks, appearing behind Niki. “This is the best it gets, unfortunately, but I’d be happy to show you the gardens. There’s more color in there than you’ll know what to do with.”

“One thing at a time,” Niki says with a laugh. “Which one of you is Captain Watson?”

The greying blonde steps forward. “Please, just call me Phil. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well. My name is Niki. I trust everything went smoothly?” Niki reaches out and shakes his proffered hand.

“About. We had a few scares, and the gravity assist was stressful -” Niki exhales, remembering all too well - “but we’re all safe and unharmed. We even have extra food left over.”

“Surprisingly.” The other adult ruffles the hair of the ground-child. “Tommy, here, is a danger to any ecosystem with how much he eats. I’m Phil’s son, Wilbur.” 

“Niki,” she says again, and shakes his hand too, pointing behind her with her clipboard. “This is Dream.”

“This is Tommy, his brother Tubbo, and my grandson Fundy,” Phil says, motioning to each in succession. 

“Where’s Techno?” Tubbo frowns.

“He should be tying things up on the rocket,” Phil reassures. “Techno is our android.”

“I’ve heard many good things from ours, Eret,” Niki smiles. “We’re so happy to have you here, by the way. Let me give you a tour before Schlatt realizes you’re here, huh?”

They follow her in a shoddy pack, traipsing dust into the pristine, white hallways.

“The colony is made of a heavily grounded steel base and skeleton, plus several layers of practically bulletproof plastic, as the walls, see? And our protection from dust storms,” Niki informs them as they travel through the tunnel-like sections, “comes from retractable steel panes that rise to cover sensitive areas. Each bubble-room is sealed off from the others, so if there’s a breach in one area, there isn’t a breach everywhere.”

“We’re also well stocked with materials,” Dream says. “So we can repair anything at a moment’s notice.”

“The gardens use recycled water, fertilizer made from the remains of our old crops. We still have to use a few pre-packaged foods -” here Tommy groans in despair - “but we’ve been growing food here using a combination of materials dug from the surface and caverns of Mars, and the varied supply missions we’ve received through the months.”

“Surely you can’t rely solely on supply missions,” Wilbur says.

“We don’t, anymore! Once we became self-sufficient, the need for supply runs has all but diminished. We even get our own water from the frozen ice caps and underground - we have rovers that retrieve as much as we need.”

“Speaking of which,” and Schlatt slides open the door in front of them with a grin on his face, “welcome! I trust you’ve heard of our one-year media release?”

~

“Must be hard, being in charge of all this,” Wilbur says to her over their late dinner of potatoes. 

Techno hasn’t left the farm since Eret informed him of it, enamored by the sprouts and various spuds. Fundy, Tommy and Tubbo are harassing Dream, Sapnap, and George, while Phil makes friendly conversation with Quackity and Schlatt a few tables over. The cafeteria bursts with more noise than Niki is used to, but it’s a welcome change. Things will be different from now on, she thinks with a smile, and she’s excited to see where it takes her.

“It’s not easy, no,” Niki says, swallowing.

Wilbur hums, pushing the potato around his plate, then blurts out, “I hope Fundy’s happy here. I didn’t exactly - I wasn’t exactly the best dad, forcing him to spend his childhood on a planet with only, what? Twelve people? I just knew he wouldn’t be happy on Earth.”

Niki nods. “Things are frightening, back home, I understand. I’m sure he does, too.”

“He does. We had a good long fight on the way up,” Wilbur scoffs, then looks up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright, I’d like to hear,” Niki says. “We’ll be getting to know each other pretty well - why not start now?”

“True.” Wilbur looks back down at his plate. “I’m really only here because of my father. Phil. He didn’t want - he really shouldn’t have let us come, but he’s a high ranking officer, you know? But - so, thank you, I suppose, for taking us under your wing. Like I said, can’t be easy.”

Niki smiles. “It’s alright, Wilbur. The point of this colony is to one day hold civilians. We’re happy to have you.” She pauses, reading inbetween the lines of his words. “Is everything alright between you and your father?”

“Almost. There’s not much you can leave unresolved on a one-year flight,” Wilbur sighs, “but we’re - we’re working on it.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Across the room, Quackity laughs, loud and bright enough to make both Niki and Wilbur look up in surprise. Phil’s chuckling too.

“He seems to be a kind man,” Niki offers.

“He is,” Wilbur says softly. 

“For what it’s worth,” Niki says after a moment, “This colony has become my family. I’m sure you will feel the same, in time.”

Wilbur stares at his father, at his son, around the cafeteria bursting with life, and then up towards the heavens and the sparkling stars. “Me too,” he says, and finally smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the far-reaching sci-fi, haha  
> hope you liked it!


End file.
